


Just Shut Up

by Azar443



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar443/pseuds/Azar443





	Just Shut Up

“Muggles.”

Percival Graves’ bushy eyebrows twitch with annoyance. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We call them Muggles, sir. Not No-Majs.”

_Deep breaths Graves, deep breaths._

“You’re working at MACUSA now, which is in the United States of America. We call No-Majs, No-Majs. You’re free to call them whatever you want to in your free time, but don’t waste my time trying to argue about” he waves his hand irately, and you stifle a smile behind your hand, “Muggles and No-Majs and differences between the Daily Oracle and the New York Ghost.” You clear your throat and interrupt him again, and you swear you see a vein throb on his forehead. “It’s the Daily Prophet, sir.” Your boss groans and cradles his head in his hands. “Just get the reports done.” He raises a hand to stop your questions. “And no I don’t give a fuck about terminology and the differences between the U.K. and the U.S. Just get them done and get out of my office.” You scurry out with a smile on your face, and your boss wonders why he hasn’t suspended you, but then remembers you actually entertain him. Not that he’ll ever admit it to you.

* * *

You’re a British Auror recently transferred to MACUSA, specifically for the purpose of tracking down Grindelwald. The International Confederation of Wizards decided that a task force dedicated to apprehending Gellert Grindelwald, consisting of witches and wizards from Europe and the US would be formed. You had the immense luck of being selected for the task force, along with two other senior Aurors from the Ministry of Magic, and while you aren’t the strongest in combat, your specialty is in recon and intelligence, something the wizarding world desperately needs now with how slippery Grindelwald is. With the U.S being the next place Grindelwald is suspected to be targeting, MACUSA holds precedence over the task force, and Percival Graves, as director of Magical Security, is placed in charge. You find him to be an interesting man, and while you’re several years younger than him, he treats you as equals and isn’t patronizing as your other male colleagues can be. You do, however, enjoy riling him up and it’s a wonder he hasn’t kicked you off the task force for lack of professionalism, seeing as you’re always finding opportunities to argue with him. He’s an intelligent man with a flair for words, and he fires back the most eloquent responses to your jibes.

Not that you’re disrespectful, of course. You realize the boundaries set in place and the image you’re to uphold of you Ministry, and your debates have never gone beyond any professional line. You do suspect that the man actually enjoys these little debates, even though he always has this exasperate look on his handsome face whenever you appear in his office. To be fair, you do make it up to him by always bringing his favourite coffee (black, like his soul), and there’s this little line on his forehead that always softens when you do that.

The both of you debate about everything, from the differences in legislation between the two nations, to which is the shop that sells the best coffee and pastries, to whether men and women are paid equally and fairly for the work that they do. Some debates end up being the silliest things ever, like the time you stubbornly held fast to your belief that cotton candy is a legitimate ice cream flavor, and he had laughed in your face, challenging you to find a shop that sold such a ludicrous ice cream flavor. It so happens that a traveling circus from London was visiting New York at that time, and you knew they sold cotton candy flavored ice cream because every time you visited the circus, that was the first thing you would buy. You had somehow convinced him to go to the circus with you, and you had crowed triumphantly at the look on his face when he saw that you were right. Surprisingly, Percival hadn’t just Apparated home after you had proved him wrong. Instead, the two of you had spent a lovely day having fun at the circus, and there were times when he smiled at you that made your stomach curl in delight. You think that was the first time you truly believed that you might have feelings for him.

Whilst most of your debates are often light hearted and made in jest, there are times when you both butt heads and end up yelling at each other from across the conference table. This usually happens when Grindelwald disappears, yet again, and everyone is tense and on edge and looking for someone to blame. The meetings that happen after are often chaotic, with everyone shouting over the other about how if we had done this or that, he would be in chains now. Percival is always particularly peeved during these meetings, because pressure is coming down on him from every other nation and everyone is running out of time. He’s always harsher then, demanding explanations from the people involved in these failed operations, and once or twice, you see he’s on the brink of yelling at them, but he always manages to rein it in. But Percival is a far more terrifying creature when his anger is bound in a tightly curled ball that everyone feels, but no one dares meet his eyes because his stare is cold and his voice is quiet but ice when he asks, politely, seething, for everyone to _please fucking come up with a plan so we can put the bastard behind bars._

He snaps though, one day, when a team consisting of six Aurors, including two rookies, run into an ambush and they come back a team of three instead. He roars at the three remaining Aurors when he realizes that he’s lost three people, including the two rookies, because of overblown egos and a lack of caution from the senior Aurors. Everyone in the conference room is silent because they’re losing more and more good people every day and nothing they do seems to be working. When Percival is done, he tells the survivors that they’re suspended and leaves without a word to everyone. You see the tense lines of his back, and his fists curled into tight balls, and you want to kiss his knuckles and tell him that everything is ok. But he’s not yours and everything isn’t ok, so you stay quiet and you throw yourself into work because the only way you can help him is by working harder, and being faster, stronger and better than Grindelwald.

You don’t realize it, but in the following days, your banters with Percival dwindle, and you’re working with your colleagues day in day out to find a lead on Grindelwald and you’ve only time to spare Percival a distracted good morning and good evening each day. He notices though, and if he’s honest with himself, he misses it. He misses the way your accent thickens as you get more excited and passionate about the subject you’re debating about, misses the way you roll your eyes at him whenever he disagree with you. He misses your intelligent conversations and the coffee you bring and the smile on your lips when you tease him. He’s not realized how much he looks forward to seeing you every day and to hearing your voice and how you intrigue him with your wit, and he thinks his office seems quieter and emptier without your daily visits.

* * *

You’re furiously deciphering an encrypted message, hoping that it contains important information when a cup of hot tea is placed in front of you. Startled, you look up to see Percival looking down at you with a crooked smile on his face. He nods at you, once, before he disappears back into his office. You’re somewhat baffled as to why he would take the time to make you a tea, and you gingerly lift the cup, breathing in the intoxicating aroma. You notice with a start, that it’s one of his cups and you wonder if he’s lost his mind, and then you notice a little note stuck to the bottom. Unfolding the piece of paper, you blush as you read the note he’s scrawled out, before you quickly slip the paper into your pocket, hoping no one notices it.

It’s lunch time but Percival is still working. The man lives off of coffee, anyway. His door flies open and he blinks and your face is in front of his. He has just enough time to wave the door close before you pull at his collar and kiss the life out of him. His hands curl themselves in your hair, and when you break away, you’re gratified to see his dark eyes glazed with affection and a hint of lust. You press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and grin, “So you admit that you miss me?” He huffs at you, and one second he’s standing behind his desk, and the next he has you pressed against the edge of the desk, his hot breath next to your ear. He bites your ear gently, not leaving a mark, and he growls at you just as you’re trying to protest weakly. “For the love of god, just shut up, just this once.” And you’re drowning in him eonly sounds you make are little groans and squeals, and Percival thinks he very much likes these sounds you make as he nips at your neck. He thinks he’ll be keeping you around after all.


End file.
